


To see a world in a grain of sand

by Thed0m1n80r



Category: Homestuck, X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), only for mutant powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mutants, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - X-Men Fusion, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mutant Powers, Mutant Rights, Mutants, Transgender, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:31:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3486614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thed0m1n80r/pseuds/Thed0m1n80r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mutation. It is the key to our evolution. It is how we have evolved from a single-cell organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow, normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few millennia evolution leaps forward. But what happens when four children are given the powers of Gods? What happens when, in a world that detests difference, what is different becomes something else entirely? And what happens when a secret government organisation gains knowledge of these children?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If Time had a name

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. The culmination of my procrastination amidst A-levels in boarding school begins.   
> This is for Meagan and Ash you ungrateful bastards. ;)  
> Oh, and i don't have a beta reader so if there is any misused syntax or spelling errors etc please, do not hesitate to let me know and i will rectify as soon as possible. Hope you enjoy :D
> 
> Accidentallygodtier.tumblr.com

If Time had a name, then it was now. The instant, the very second of his appearance, the story began. Something was in the air, and it wasn’t just the offhand drifting of leaves that spattered across the autumn sky. It wasn’t the chill that held one’s body in racks of shivers that came and went, it wasn’t the cars that whizzed down the road every now and then, it wasn’t the skyscrapers that littered the skyline, it wasn’t the neat little houses that protruded up and out of the boulevard. It was the chill behind the chill, the not what that made the hairs on the back of the neck prick up, but the why. Something was being planned; something was beginning, and it continued to begin as the lanky boy stumbled out of the taxi, suitcase in hand and bag on back and with headphones on with a deadpan expression concealed beneath the dark shades. he rose, and stopped. Breath left his mouth in a cloud, twirling into the atmosphere to join the molecules that whizzed across the skyline. To join the molecules that hummed in anticipation. The boy waved off the driver, took a step into the lane and began to walk in a slow stride, akin to his name. The boy was not known to rush.  
“If Time had a name, it’s a fucking waste” He whispered to himself, blonde hair lifting in the breeze, the nametag of his shirt only just visible for an infinitesimal second. Written in a childish scrawl, was Dave Strider. 

If Breath had a name, then it was rugged. And fast. And full of coughs, and disturbances. The air wheezed in and out of the boys lungs, tiny arms pumping with his tiny legs as he pelted through the woods. Trees flew by, flare of colours of mayhem in the tiny eyes as green melted into brown melted into blue melted into oranges and reds and yellows and then, he stopped. Alone, he doubled over, tiny hands rubbing tiny eyes as he slowed his breathing again, taking great gulps of air. Dark hair flicked about as he moved, the constant bedhead accompanying the glasses with too large frames that constantly adorned his face. With his breath back, he allowed himself to gaze at the clearing with some sort of ancient tug that pulled from inside the dark branches of the trees. The boy drank in the view, turning on his heel as he looked. There was nothing extraordinary about what ensued next. The resounding crack that echoed as the bough fell, plunging down towards the poor boy. Nothing extraordinary about the hands up to defend himself as he closed his eyes, his body one large flinch. What was extraordinary was the burst of air that shot from his hands in great streams, sending the branch up and up, the burst of air that swirled around him and made leaves fly off trees, creating that eternal rustling when a breeze brushes the trees of the neighbour’s garden, lifting the small figure into the wind. The burst of air that changed everything for the small boy.

If Breath had a name, it was John Egbert.

“Mutation. It is the key to our evolution. It is how we have evolved from a single-cell organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow, normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few millennia evolution leaps forward.” Said the politician on the television, before being torn into bits a burst of static.  
“Jesus Christ” Dave muttered to himself, half heartedly pushing a lanky leg off the sofa before deciding, nope, it was far better on the plush cushions and static is perfectly fine to watch on television thank you very much. However, the joys of incoherent rubbish were abruptly banished when one fine, velvet puppet rear smacked into Dave’s face.

Yelling madly, he flipped backwards off the sofa, narrowly missing the pile of extremely shitty swords balanced precariously on the coffee table next to him.  
“BRO” He shouted, righting the shades that had been dangling off the side of his face, revealing one rather vibrantly crimson iris.  
“I just arrived, Jesus Fuck can we leave the strife for a bit? I’m sixteen for Christ’s sake” Dave spat, looking around the room whilst his right hand moved slowly over to the pile of swords. His eyes narrowed behind the shades, and his just as his hand clenched on the cold handle, another puppet slammed into Dave’s side, drawing a very uncool “oof” from the boy, who doubled over, sword in hand.  
“Okay, seriously. Enough is Enough.” Dave said, scanning the mess of a room for any shimmering shadows or disappearing household items, the usual tell-tale symbols of one’s average apartment ninja.  


There. On a cluttered counter, a small blue _thing_ appeared, grinning absently with it’s proboscis all jutting out ever so slightly. With a rather uncool yell, Dave jumped, bringing his sword down in the average vicinity with a whistle as it tore through the air. With a crash, it met one sharp blade, forged from the depths of the Animes themselves. With the very same crash, the blade snapped into a perfect half. Dave just had time to sigh gently at the delicious irony of it all, before one long, spindly leg smashed into his chin with enough force to knock the tall boy off his feet. Dave grunted as he hit the wooden floorboards, eyes just catching a flash of orange and black before it disappeared, and the room was seemingly empty again. He raised his spare hand and rubbed his chin, feeling sorry for himself as he read the note written on a sheet torn from a Hello Kitty notepad that lay next to him.  


Bro.  
Roof, now.  


Dave sighed loudly, head smacking back against the floorboards again. He hadn’t been home for five minutes, and already he was being accosted from all sides by his brother. He stood up smoothly, brushing off his white T-shirt. He looked across the room to the ladder that led to the roof, trapdoor lifted so that a small breeze whistled round the cluttered room. He walked over to it, and allowing himself to feel a delectable amount of self-pity for a second, he ascended.  
  
The roof was strangely cool as the sun beat down on him and the figure across from him. A sharp, distinct blue covered the skyline, with the odd cloud dotted about the empty canvas of the autumn sky. Around the gravely roof were a few air-con systems and a large satellite, but aside from that it was empty. No other buildings in the close vicinity stood as high and proud as the one they were on, the skyscraper exposing them to the outside, but protecting them from the gazes of humans. This helps, when you have a brother who is the only class four mutant in the whole city. Said brother was a statue, even the soft breeze not affecting his gelled up hair that somehow stayed in perfect shape underneath the cap that covered it. Pointed triangular shades surveyed Dave with a certain robotic feeling, and the usually nonchalant face offered a slight grin before disappearing. Dave cursed, then cursed again, realizing the only weapon he had was the shattered remains of the shitty sword. He looked at it, the shrugged, holding it in a defensive stance as he prepared himself for the inevitable attack. With a rush of air, it came from his left, a large force knocking him off balance and strangely close to the edge of the roof. With a strangled yelp, Dave crouched, slowing his movement across the lumpy gravel. Bastard wants dirty? He can have dirty. Dave ran at a shimmer in the corner, jumping as he brought his sword down in an arc. It met the hard Anime blade with a crash, but one that held before moving into another, both boys moving faster than the eye could gather. Dave parried and countered fiercely, a stern frown contrasting with the unfeeling mask of his brother’s. The fast smashing of blades lasted for about a minute before a slice opened up on Dave’s right forearm, and the boy retreated quickly after that. He surveyed the wound, before returning his eyes back to the seemingly empty roof. Maybe Bro would stop? It was his first day back after all, perhaps he wo- Nope, any chance of that was cleanly shot out of the air as the blade bore down on the lanky boy who only just managed to raise his sword to defend himself. The force of the blow made Dave stagger, but with a grunt he rolled away from it, and slashed randomly. Amazingly, he felt the slight resistance of cloth, and opening his tightly closed eyes he saw a tiny strip of blue hanging off the end of his half blade. Bro shimmered into existence at the opposite side of the roof, trademark puppet handing from his left arm. With a strip of cloth missing from it’s T-shirt. Dave had hit Cal.  
  
Dave raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to be pleased or afraid at his tiny triumph. The issue resolved itself what could have been a frown glimmered quickly on his brother’s face, before the boy disappeared. Dave moaned, hating himself for the foolish mistake of landing a hit. On skin, Bro was fine. But Cal? Cal is the shit. No one touches Cal. So, from above Dave’s punishment came, the slash of a blade that never ceased, the continued attacks that Dave only just managed to stop from hitting vital body parts as relentless as the flow of blood from his previous injury. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, covered in scratches and with a T-shirt in tatters, Dave collapsed slightly onto the gravel, defence dissolving in the harsh light of the sun that was only just beginning to set. His shades fell from his eyes poetically as fuck, hitting the roof with a slight thud. Dave raised his gaze wearily to the brother that appeared before him, one hand on hip, the other holding Cal. His sword seemed somewhere else, but Dave knew better. With a tilted head, body silhouetted against the light of the sun, Bro spoke to his brother for the first time in years.  
“Sup Little man. Footwork needs more attention, and your blade hand is beginning to slack. Eyes up. Also, I’m kinda shocked it still hasn’t come yet. God knows it’s been long enough.” Came out in a thick southern drawl, the last line making Dave raise a weary eyebrow in confusion. He opened his mouth to say something rude back, but all he managed was:  
“Oh kiss the darkest part of my little white-“Before Bro vanished from the roof, leaving the teenage boy fatigued and alone, only onlooker being the setting sun.


	2. Piping down the valleys wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap another chapter in a day after and holy cow someone liked it at least and people ahh, thank you so much :D anywhoo, John, yay, and some sneaky shit to make sure people may actually stay on 0.o ehehe, but yeah, maybs a troll? We may never know. cept we will. yeah. I should probably write a plan for this thing if i am serious. Once more, do let me know if i have made an error and i will gladly fix the problem. Oh, and i will probably set up a schedule for updating this? Like, once a week? I dunno. Anywhoo, enjoy!!
> 
> AccidentallyGodTier.tumblr.com

The boy raised his face to the sun. The autumn breeze drifted lazily across his face, gently tugging at his T-shirt, his hair, and his soul. The light glinted off his wire frame glasses, reflecting light in a gentle way upwards towards the clouds. Leaves fell around him, settling on the black mesh of the trampoline. A small giggle erupted from the boy’s mouth, buck teeth slipping into a quick grin as leaf landed on his bare, pale arm. With a flash of blue as his eyes flickered open, iris dilating to consume the whole eye for a split second. The leaves around him whipped up, and in an order far too uniformed to be entropic they swirled around the boy, curling up into the sky in a line of browns, yellows and fading greens. The boy raised a gentle hand, slender fingers twirling gently, the leaves flicking in response to him. Another giggle was heard by the birds that swirled overhead, and the boy slowly sat up, shirt catching on the trampoline. Suddenly, there was a sharp rap on the glass of the French door behind him, and with a jump the boy turned quickly, losing focus on the leaves so that they drifted unaccompanied now, the natural breeze their new master. From the glass window, a gentle face looked out as the perfect picture of stern fatherly disapproval. A frown furrowed some very refined and trimmed eyebrows, simple blue eyes staring directly into the boy’s face. A fedora adorned the gentlemen’s hair, and with a slight, almost unnoticeable shake of the head he turned from the boy, returning to a pristine kitchen top that held a cooking bowl. The boy groaned excessively, audibly, the face contorting into lines of pain that just didn’t seem natural to it. Then, the grin was back, and with a slight “hup” The boy threw himself off the trampoline, landing on the perfectly trimmed grass gently. His bare feet curled up as the soft tendrils stroked his toes with every step he took towards the house. Upon entering via the door, the sun disappeared behind a cloud.

“Son.” The gentlemen said, facing away from the door. His arm was shaking violently as he whisked the contents of the bowl, which was met by a raised eyebrow of the boy. Then, he spoke  
“Jeez, I know dad, sorry. I just couldn’t help it; you know how awesome autumn is!” He moaned, the negative tone unable to conceal the pure bubble of emotion that seeped into the air like a drug, naturally able to put many an agitated soul at ease. However, the man was unfazed, and as he gently set the bowl down the boy sighed, his whole body moving with emotion as he readied himself for what occurred next. Two firm, well-kept hands settled on his shoulders, squeezing slightly. The boy glanced up, gaze caught by that of his father.  
“Son.” The man repeated, smiling in a kind way. “You know that I am so, so proud of you. You have talents and abilities many do not, and I know you adore them. I know that you will become a strong man someday, and as each one passes you get closer to this moment. However, you are aware of the current predicament of society around us, and it would not be wise to draw attention to your skills. Remember what happened last time”. At this, the boy did, frowning himself as he looked back to Ohio.  
“Daaaaaaaad” he groaned, childishly dragging out the A. “I know. I’m sorry, and I’ll try not to do it again okay?” he said, admitting defeat with a shrug. He glanced into the eyes of his father again, hoping he would believe him. The man held his gaze or what seemed like far too much time, and with a look of knowledge he smoothly raised a single eyebrow. He said nothing, only smiling again before turning back to his bowl. The boy grinned without being able to help himself, teeth sticking out pleasantly as he smiled. He turned quickly, and with large amounts of energy he dashed to the door, and without thinking, he pushed it open forcefully. There was a “thunk” as the bucket fell, and then a splash as both the water, and the boy’s prankster’s gambit fell. He yelped, shivering as his clothes were drenched.  
“DAD!” he yelped, pulling the bucket off his head before being accosted by a violent bout of shivering. The only reply was a severe amount of refined chuckling from the man behind him, who only said  
“Eyes open as usual, John” Before returning to his baking with renewed vigour. John grunted gently, before running out of the room and ascending the stairs two at a time. Upon reaching the top, the boy wasted no time in undressing, lobbing the sodden clothes into the overflowing washing basket at the end of his bed. He violently searched through his drawers before extracting a towel and a clean shirt. He dried himself roughly, wild hair being ruffled even further. When done, he threw the towel towards the direction of the basket before pulling the shirt on over himself, righting his glasses once done. He rose then, and stood silently in his room. An unusual calm crept over the boy, and with the silent fear that accompanies such a realization, he knew he was being watched.

Cliché as the movies he adored, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and turning gently he looked out of the window behind him. The view showed him part of their neighbours overgrown garden, and just for a moment John could spy rough hair, a face far too gaunt for the child it belonged too, and crimson eyes before the spy blushed violently and ducked behind the safety of the fence. John shrugged to himself, and then pulled the curtains shut, slightly put off by the actions of the boy. “Weird.” He mused out loud, before grinning again and moving into the landing. Three doors were around him (except the one of his own bedroom). One lead to the bathroom, another to his father’s bedroom, and the final one had been shut for years. The paint on it was slightly faded, and the name of John’s missing sister glared out at him. A colourful light blue shone from the letters, the vibrant paint used by the whim of the old-school girl. John’s smile faltered somewhat, before returning as he allowed himself to continue downstairs. Though he could no longer see them, the letters stayed vigilant in guarding their secrets. The simple four letter sequence spelled out a common name, but one riddled with the stories of a girl caught up in forces she couldn’t possibly imagine. But John wasn’t aware of the story, and he wouldn’t be for a while. So, he descended into his living room, forgetting once more about Jane.

Like the rest of the house, the living room appeared simple at first glance, but upon the second and third some slightly strange things could be found. There was a normal family photo, but also a harlequin doll. A television, but also a bust of Bill Cosby. A fireplace, but also a painting of a pipe. And so on. John lounged on the sofa, reaching for the remote lazily, flicking on the news channel.  
“Mutation. It is the key to our evolution. It is how we have evolved from a single-cell organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow, normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few millennia evolution leaps forward. “Came from the speakers, the purposefully turned up volume knocking off a few more of John’s gambit points. His father certainly would be enjoying this particular exchange. John held up the remote like a sword, and spammed the volume down button until the noise level reached something more kind to the human ear. With this done, he focused on the TV once more, the politician before him making John smile slightly. The news report was actually very boring in truth; there wasn’t much else to it except for the slow tones of senator Hank McCoy. It spoke of the need for acceptance, and how humanity was stronger together, or something else that John kind of phased out from. His gaze moved from the TV towards the window, where it settled on a simple tree. John began to remember calmly, his mind drifting into thoughts about school, the past, and his growing “problem”. He didn’t ponder much, pausing to listen to his father rattling about in the kitchen, most likely cooking up another hideous concoction of sorts. John sighed and then threw himself off the sofa, the Sunday making him drowsy as he continued on up the stairs, then up into the attic. He didn’t pause long in the musty room; his target was the well-oiled ladder that led up to the roof, smiling to himself as he reached it.

He poked his head out gently at first, the rays of the setting sun making him blink behind his glasses, before he heaved the rest of his body out into the light. He settled himself at the apex of the roof, sitting up. His looked out across the calm neighbourhood, this distant sounds of children playing, yearning to catch the last playing time of the day as the sun dipped below the horizon. Cars drifted lazily past, and every now and then a train could be heard passing along in the distance. But John didn’t just hear all these things, he felt them, and he indulged himself then, allowing something he had been forced to keep tame a tendril of freedom, something he couldn’t keep in anymore-

And he Breathed.

The exhalation held so much, and as a simple breath clouded in the air, it extended. Fingers of breeze twisted through the air, and joined others in a reaching embrace that sought to learn. Hands brushed the children, tentatively caressed the traffic lights and twiddled the hair of adults. The Breeze felt the world, and at the epicentre John breathed, the pulsing network of knowledge flowing around him. He didn’t know how long he sat like this, but it was enough for the hue of the sky to be darkened, drop by drop black had darkened the pleasant blue to something a bit more navy, and a tad more sinister. Sadly, he reigned in his reach, and ignored the heavy yearning of the Breeze that defied him, wanted to play for longer. John turned one last time as he went back down the ladder, catching a last glimpse of the evening before descending, shutting of the simple gate into humanity. Giggling, he leapt off the ladder and slowed his descent with a flick of the wrist, something his dad would have been very stern about. But dad wasn’t there, and John once more allowed himself the privilege of control. He returned to the landing, stopping briefly to gaze once more at his sister’s door before heeding the call of his father. But as he grinned to himself, jumping the steps two at a time in a rush to sit down for dinner, someone else was aware of his presence. A presence that had secretly watched his apparently invisible antics on the roof. A presence that had mentally recorded the data, before blinking over his striking red eyes before receding into the treeline.


	3. Sweet dreams form a shade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, sorry i left a day out. Im not sure why im apologising, as i said once a week, but i kind of felt bad for it. Here is a slightly bigger chapter i guess, and yeah :P I think i will start doing once a week now. As usual, let me know about errors and tumblr is AccidentallyGodTier.  
> Toodlepip :D  
> oh, and i dont know how to do chatlogs. Someone help me pls

A tight, wrenching pain brought Dave back from his mental wanderings. Leashed in by the intense stab, his eyes narrowed behind his shades, stoic face betraying nothing of the winces he felt inside. With another tense pull, he made the bandage on his arm extremely taught, stopping any more leaking of the sickly red. He sighed to himself, then reached behind him, fingers tapping on odd objects that lay on the counter, quick to retract from the sharp or plush, but clasping tight on the plastic bottle. He raised the cup to his lips, and as his Elixir of Life it fuelled him, and with one fell swoop the empty container was condemned to the rubbish bin. Dave flexed his injured arm, testing his freedom against the shoddy work

. Bro used to bandage him when they strifed years back, making sure to tentatively test the tightness of the cloth, and always prepared with a bottle of AJ for his Bro. Except Dave wasn’t usually inclined to feel kindly towards his guardian, as not many are the ones to take sword to their charge and injure. But hey, Dave had been used to all the crap for the entirety of his life so far, so it hardly bothered him. Satisfied with his handiwork, he pushed himself off the counter and onto the wooden floor. Some seriously ill beats pulsed from the room next to him, no doubt the handiwork of his Bro. However, arguably even more ill than said fly beats were the projects Bro was working on. Dave wouldn’t really say that the days of puppet pornography were over, exactly, he had been back a day and had already been assaulted by the lude positioning of said toys twice, once in the shower and another in his room. But anyway, in the three years Dave had been absent at his boarding school with his crazed alcoholic cousin Bro had taken his swift skills to the art of robotics, creating many wonderful, and mostly weird, animatronics and gadgets. Though it was certainly a respite, it seemed far too brief to amount to anything- Dave was absolutely certain it was only a matter of time before puppets and machinery collided to make Terminator Plush, porno extradinner. Dave shivered slightly at the grim prospect, and then moved out of the tiny kitchen into the living room.

His gaze slipped briefly to the sofa he had been on before, but safety could no longer be expected in the grasp of the velvet. Dave moved faster now, not really paying attention to his surroundings. In three years the apartment hadn’t exactly changed much, albeit more puppets lying around, more shitty swords and sadly less AJ. Dave stopped outside his bedroom door, blank white with “DaVe” written in red ink by his six year old self still present, but fading, on the door. The capitals and numerical additions were totally ironic, of course. Dave still had faith in his past self, and if he ever discovered time travel, as unlikely as it was, he would certainly have been sure to offer a fist bump and an almost invisible nod to himself from times earlier. Dave then pushed the door open with a slight creak, and tore off the tattered remains of his shirt, chucking it directly into the bin. He shoved a hand in a cupboard, pulling out an extremely old T-shirt, not having the energy to unpack. Also, the ironic prospect of wearing his thirteen year old fashion choices could not go unignored. Dave pulled on the record Tee, before lifting his laptop lid up and playing some music. He made sure to turn the volume right up, then to play the exact same song his Bro was now playing before turning away, and leaning on his bed. He grunted slightly as something hard dug into the small of his back, and with a slight groan he extracted his tattered Iphone. The app for pesterchum, a barely used chat client with strange options for “quirks”, typing changes with “hilarious” effects, was popping up on his screen. With one eyebrow raised, Dave collapsed against his pillows and read.

??gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] (Dave still thought that name was sick as fuck even three years later) at 17:50  
??GC: H3LLO D4V3  
??GC: YOU H4V3 NO 1D34 WHO 1 4M Y3T H3H3H3  
??GC: 1SNT 1T 1RON1C D4V3?  
??GC: YOU W1LL TH1NK 1T 1S 1RON1C 1N T1M3 D4V3  
??GC: H3H3H3 1N T1M3  
??GC: 3GBERT WOULD B3 SO PL34S3D W1TH M3 R1GHT NOW FOR TH4T ON3  
??GC: D4V3 WHY 4R3NT YOU R3SPOND1NG  
??GC: 1 AM SOOOOOOOOOO D1SS4PO1NT3D 1N YOU D4V3  
??GC: WHY 4R3 YOU ST1LL F1GHT1NG W1TH YOUR GU4RD1AN D4V3, W3 BOTH KNOW YOU W1LL LOS3  
??GC: S33? 1TS SO OBV1OUS. 3V3NTUALLY THOUGH, YOU W1LL B34T H1M D4V3. TH4NKS TO M3, OF COURS3 >:]  
??GC: 4NYW4Y, 1 DON’T H4V3 UNL1M1T3D T1M3, UNL1K3 SOM3 P3OPL3, 4ND ON3 OF MY COMP41N1ONS IS G3TT1NG 4NTSY SO 1 W1LL T4LK TO YOU L4TER D4V3. LOOK FORW4RD TO 1T >;]

Well, thought Dave, that was unexpected. Obviously, some twelve year old had got hold of his account and found the quirk option hilarious. Said child had apparently watched him fight his brother, in a seemingly impossible to view place as well as discover his name. Weird.

TG: yo strange stalker, whoever you are, you have made a serious mistake in summoning me  
TG: I will shit bricks of rage upon you and your children, scoundrel, mark my words  
??GC: H3H3H3 D4V3 YOUR “1RONY” 1S D3L1C1OUS, 3SP3C14LLY WH3N YOU TH1NK 1T 1S FUNNY. H4V3 1 3V3R TOLD YOU TH4T? WH3N YOU F1ND OUT, L3T M3 KNOW. 1 W4SNT JOK1NG 4BOUT H4V1NG TO GO THOUGH, 4ND MY COMP41N1ON 1S FL1PP1NG BOTH OF H1S SH1TS 4BOUT 4 “L1N34R T1M3L1N3” OR WHAT3V3R >:[  
??GC: UNT1L TH3 N3XT T1M3  
??gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 18:20

Dave’s eyebrow continued to be raised for about a second, before dropping to join its counterpart. Dave steadily denied that the occurrence would hold any significance whatsoever in future life. Weird people always ended up with his handle via the online searching systems, and it wasn’t out of logic to assume people could do some background reading on social networks. Entirely convinced, Dave threw his phone back on the bed next to him, before stretching and yawning quietly. His repeated song was no longer the same as Bro’s obviously, and the tune had by far stretched the limits of it’s ironic value, and thus was condemned to oblivion. After pausing the song, Dave turned and peeked out the window at the much darker sky. Autumn was getting on, and soon with would be winter, a thought that didn’t really hold much significance to Dave. He scanned the buildings around him, some tall skyscrapers nearing the height of the block he was in. Lights flickered on an off from each window, each inhabitants dealing with their own special drama, their own lives absorbing everything. Dave’s eyes flicked from each window to the next, some offering gateways into the private lives. Children running in circles, adults fighting, some even kissing passionately in plain view. Dave wrinkled an eyebrow, looking over some of the curtained windows for no reason. His eyes caught a window that flashed a strange, vibrant blue and red from behind the curtains, and he wondered what was going on in that household for a second, before moving on to the next.

Dave did this for a while before the sun truly was gone, and the stars were beginning to show their faces in the sky. There weren’t many, and there never usually where with this much light pollution. The clock by his beside chimed a small ring to let him know it was seven, and as it rang the music from Bro’s room shot up tenfold. Dave jumped out the way of a falling book that narrowly missed him, joining many others that were tumbling to the floor. If this was going to keep up, Dave doubted he would get a damn good nights kip before his first day at state school in a long time. He took another glance out the window, before grabbing his phone and shoving it in his pocket, dragging his headphones out with him. He left the room and returned to the living room that also pulsated with the very ill beats. Dave probably should have been excited to be back home, or nervous about returning to the old ways. Maybe he should have felt a small amount of concern that his brother had pulled him out of an education that wasn’t exactly the worst the country had to offer. But Dave very rarely doubted Bro’s decisions in the long run- when it came to big decisions, Bro always had a plan that had Dave’s best interests at heart. Yet as a puppet fell from it’s perch on the lightbulb to clout Dave round the head, Dave decided that Bro’s decision tonight was not a good one. He also decided that roaming the streets like a weird recluse would be an excellent idea.

Dave dashed back into his room, and grabbed his coat from the wall. It was the one he had with him when he arrived, a simple black and red affair that was fairly innocuous. Just how Dave liked it. He left his room, and then with a simple glance to the rest of the visible apartment he opened the front door and left. The corridor was very chilly, and Dave wasted no time in heading for the stairs. The lift hadn’t worked in years, and to Dave’s dismay when he first arrived it still hadn’t been fixed in the three he had been absent. He had a sneaking suspicion it was something to do with Bro, but he had no way to confirm his guesswork. When he reached the top of the stairwell, he looked down the middle. Aside from a couple viciously exchanging saliva seven blocks down, he was alone. Smiling slightly behind the shades, Dave hopped onto the banister. With both legs over the edge, dangling over the huge fall to the bottom, He gave himself a shove and began to descend rapidly down the stairs. The worn and smooth metal railings were perfect for the descent, and it was one thing Dave missed about living there. He gathered momentum as he shot down, and it was with great satisfaction he smacked into the back of the barely dressed female playing tonsil tennis with her boyfriend, sending them both clattering across the small platform they were on. He ignored the crude insults hurled at him as he continued, and when he reached the bottom he timed his jump to perfection, using the momentum gathered to hurtle out the automatic doors at the bottom, shoot across the torn carpet and land running out the front doors. He continued running out on the pavement, sounds of the city beating around him. He heard cars honking at each other, the sound of sirens in the distance and the bustle of people mixing together to form an interesting sound. Dave listened to this for about a minute as he ran before putting his headphones on and allowing his own beats to drown out the noise. He passed people speedily, some stopping to look at the running boy, others almost barging into him without looking where they were going. Dave didn’t hit anyone, changing direction at split seconds and crossing the roads at brief lulls in the heavy traffic.

After a while, the cold, grey world shifted into a light green that was lit up by various streetlights. He had reached a park, a small affair with nice trees that still held on to a few speckles of green amidst the carpet of yellows, browns and reds. Dave’s footsteps crunched on the leaves as he walked, and eventually he reached his destination, an old and rusty play park. He vaulted the low fence and sat on a swing, head dipped slightly as the chains creaked with the sudden weight. He looked about, a road visible between the trees, cars zipping past every few seconds. He leant back, and then slowly began to swing. He didn’t believe you go to a swing set to look awkward, you go to a swing set to swing, and good glorious fuck if Dave wasn’t going to swing. He gained some unreal air in very few seconds, maintaining perfect balance as he flew through the air. Eventually, he go to the point where he could practice his old trick, and he pulled his phone out and began to text while he swung. His left arm twinged slightly when he clasped on to the cold railings, but aside from that all was calm. That was until the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Dave turned down the music gently, but continued to swing. He listened to the world around him when his music was off completely, waiting for any sign of noise or sudden movement, eyes narrowed behind the shades. Suddenly, he heard a crack of twigs, and swinging his head round his eyes widened as he caught the gaze, well it wasn’t exactly a gaze as the person was obviously blind, of some searing red eyes, orbs that glistened in the light. They belonged to a small girl with striking ginger hair and a devilish grin, and Dave was just about to jump off and go to her when something took hold of the swing, throwing him off his balance and catapulting him into the air. Dave yelped, and as his headphones flew off he heard a high pitched giggle before he landed, eyes forced shut in some very strong, and familiar arms.

Bro gazed down at Dave from his shaded eyes, smirking slightly. Dave resumed his stoic face, but it was too late- he knew that Bro, as well as creepy girl and probably anyone within a hundred meters of the place had heard his undignified yelp. He was surprisingly calm now, brain controlling his body perfectly after his brief flight. He knew he looked a fool in Bro’s arms, but he hardly cared. It was the night now, and the only onlooker was- gone. He peered out from behind Bros shoulder, ignoring his words as he looked for any sign of the mystery girl. But she was gone apparently. Resigning himself to look into that later, he zoned back into Bro.  
“You listening Lil’ man?” Bro asked, and Dave nodded sheepishly before shaking himself, attempting to make Bro drop him. The irony had lasted for long enough.  
“Yeah, sure, just put me down Bro” Dave said, sighing.  
“Sorry Lil’ man, but you got school in the morning and you just deice to take a little walk without letting me know? Downright inconsiderate” Bro grinned. Dave sighed loudly.  
“Bro. I’m sixteen, and it isn’t even eight in the fucking evening” Dave said, raising an eyebrow. Bro ignored him, and continued.  
“Looks like Imma have to take you home Lil’ man. Get ready.”

Oh no.

Fuck no.

Bro was not going to dare, do it, not for the first time in ye- shit. Suddenly, with a whistling noise that tore through Dave’s ears, lying in his brother’s embrace like a damsel in distress, he sped. They curved through the night, forms blurring around them as his bother moved them through the area. Their molecules sped at ridiculous speeds, noise was in a huge crescendo as they passed still images of people on phones, walking and driving. Finally, or finally enough for Dave, which was about two seconds, they found themselves on a roof, and with perfect jumps that Dave almost missed they hopped from roof to roof, ascending in the strangest way possible. Eventually, they reached the familiar gravel pathway, and Dave fell onto the roof, gasping for breath as they stopped their dash. “Bro.” He managed between gasps. “Never. Do that. Again.” Dave sputtered; raising his head to Bro. Bro looked down at Dave for a second, took off his shades, winked and then disappeared. For the second time in one day, Dave found himself wordless and alone on the roof, but this time with the moon as his only company.


	4. When the voices of children are heard on the green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh lordy, sorry i didn't upload yesterday, even though i said week. Idk, leaving it feels bad even though it is highly illogical churning this out. As a result, this chapter is highly likely to end up riddled with simple mistakes, so in the morning when i am wake i will rectify it ASAP. It was going to be longer, but im tired af so sorry :P  
> Thanks for reading, and enjoy the meeting of John and Dave with mixed perspectives :D
> 
> AccidentallyGodTier.tumblr.com

A simple ringing brought John out of his dreamless sleep. The winds rushed through the chimes outside his window, the soft music waking the boy up. John rubbed his eyes with his hands viciously, emotive face scrunching up into wrinkles and lines as he worked. He swung a leg over the bed, bare feet shivering slightly as they touched the carpet. With slit eyes, John then stumbled out of his room, and went into the bathroom. Shivering slightly, he undressed and got into the shower, central heating providing him with instant warmth. He sighed happily, hearing the clatter of pans downstairs as his father probably prepared a huge amount of breakfast, of which John would eat about two percent, before the boy left to get the bus for school.

John got out of the shower feel awake, and as he got dressed he hummed to himself. His window was slightly open, letting in a chilly breeze that wrapped itself comfortably around John. Strangely, even when he wasn’t actively trying to control the Breeze it acted upon impulse around John and in relation to his emotions. Once dressed, John spent an amount of time in the mirror attempting to fix his hair, but after ten minutes of distress he heeded the call of Dadbert and went downstairs. As expected, an extremely large spread was laid out on the table, Dad sitting at one end with a pipe in his mouth (which earned a disgruntled look from John, ignored happily with a grin by Dad) and sipping a cup of coffee gently as he read the paper. Truly, a more refined morning man could not be found. Sometimes John doubted whether Dad actually slept, or whether he spent his time reading cookbooks and trimming his immaculate face. Earning a wink from his Dad for the prolonged stare, John’s eyes fell to his huge plateful. He stabbed gently at the egg with a fork, and tested the end of a chip fry before holding his orange juice to the light, inspecting it thoroughly. He dipped in a finger, tested it with a raised eyebrow directed at Dad, who did nothing in return, before allowing himself to take a sip. It seemed safe enough, freshly squeezed and delicious. John took another sip, before fiddling with his toast. After another half- hearted attempt to appear like he was eating, Dadbert dropped his newspaper on the table and gave John one very stern look, riddled with excessive fatherly concern.   
“John. Why won’t you eat your breakfast? You know it is the most important meal of the day, and-“ “I know Dad” John cut in hastily, stopping what would have certainly ensued to be a large speech about the importance of his morning meal.  
“I’m just not a hungry person in the mornings, you know. I’ve tried asking you to stop making so much, you have to be wasting at least a billion pounds dollars on this a week” John said, ending with a light-hearted joke in an attempt to make his Dad smile. He got the smile, but the interrogation didn’t stop.  
“Well, I will check your lunchbox today, and make sure you eat something.” Dad said, folding his arms and taking a rather long draw of the pipe. John groaned at this, head rolling along with his eyes as he leaned back on his chair.   
“Daaaaaaaad, don’t give me a lunchbox, I always look like five whenever I open it at school. As if I even needed to seem more weird…” John said, hoping the guilt trip would win him the exchange. With another concerned glance from his dad, John knew he just couldn’t compete with the stern father. When it came to giving a shit about kids, Dad was simply the best there is.

 

\-------------------------------------------

When it came to giving a shit about kids, Bro was simply the worst there is. Dave stared dismally at his lunchbag. He had a tattered backpack slung over his right shoulder as well as a splitting headache from being woken up by extremely loud electronic music ten minutes earlier, which led to the most rushed shower in the history of existence.

Dave lifted the bag nervously, and peeked inside. Simple cheese sandwiches, a bag of crisps and an apple. In a swift movement, Dave ditched the apple in favour of its liquid counterpart. Then, in a nervous fluid movement Dave stuffed the bag into his backpack. Just because there wasn’t a puppet in there yet, didn’t mean Bro wasn’t waiting for the opportune moment. Dave cast a glance around the apartment, but there didn’t seem to be any odd shimmering. He was safe, for now. At this, Dave took a look at the watch on his arm. 08:00. He had twelve minutes. He placed his headphones onto his head, and then turned on his heel and briskly left the apartment.

He was about to reach the stairwell doors when he heard a cry from behind him, and he instinctively ducked. A tiny blue package hit the door in front of him, and settled on the floor. Turning his head to read the writing on it, he stepped back with repugnance when he read “Dulex”. “Not cool Bro” Dave shouted to the closed door behind him, and with a kick he sent the offending article flying, before opening the door and descending in his usual fashion, Headphones blocking out the noise of the waking world as he turned the volume up. When he made it outside the apartment block, he headed left. His feet clicked slightly on the tiles as he walked, and the early morning sun illuminated the world around him at a slant as he proceeded. He got lost in the music, allowing his pace to slow as he gazed at the artwork around him. Colours mixing into each other, early morning commuters becoming a collective of a mixing palette, the pure difference amazing. Dave showed no visible interest in this, but inside his head the cogs were whirring, ticking to the time of life around him. It was this distraction that was a terrible mistake, and it was with a loud groan Dave watched as the bus left the stop a hundred or so meters away from him.

“I am not being Peter fucking Parker” Dave spat, and he set off at a sprint. Luckily, the early morning traffic slowed the bus’ progress, allowing Dave to reach it just as it met clear road. Dave somehow managed to look cool as he ran for his life alongside the bright yellow vehicle, but this image was promptly helped by his next action. In a fit of changing the Spiderman doomed fate, he threw his body to the side, raising a hand to latch onto the side of the bus. His feet banged against the side of the emergency doors as he clung on for dear life, and narrowing his eyes to peer inside the bus, somehow retaining the stoic facial expression he studied the current inhabitants. The bus was almost full, and pretty much all of the kids on board were gaping at the display. One in particular was the boy across from the window, who supported rectangular wire frame glasses, some prominent front teeth, hair that looked like he just gotten out of bed and finally some of the most amazing eyes Dave had ever seen. Shaking himself slightly, the pain of his arm (thank Christ it wasn’t his injured one) reached a climax as he tore his eyes from the boys gaze. It took a huge amount of effort to keep this up, and he allowed an image of pain to whip across his face as he mentally cursed the blatant idiot of a driver. He knocked on the door with his spare hand, and shouted.   
“OPEN THE DOOR PLEASE”. The boy opposite him shook himself, his face a wave of raging emotions, before he pulled on the bar and the door swung out against Dave. Dave moved himself around it and threw his body onto the boy, door slamming shut and voices silenced as he lay on the boys lap.  
“Sup.”

\--------------------------------------------------------

John sighed to himself as he stood outside his house, bright blue clean backpack suspended by both straps on his shoulder. He felt the hard edge of a lunchbox digging into his back, but he couldn’t be bothered to adjust it. He turned and waved to his dad as the bus rounded the corner, almost empty. Dad nodded back, and said “Have a good day son” Before shutting the door with a click. When John turned back the bus had stopped, and with a hydraulic hiss the doors swung open.   
“Hi Tom” He said with a smile to greasy driver, who merely grunted in response. John swore that bus drivers could only communicate by grunts, and as they learned to drive buses they were also taught the language unknown to all except themselves.

John heaved himself up the steps and went automatically towards the back of the bus, gaze lowered as he passed the few teens that were already there. None of them looked at him anyway, but Dad had always told John to keep a low profile, after Ohio. He took a seat near the back, next to the emergency exit. He lay his bag down between his legs, and it wasn’t long before he was gazing absently out the window. Gradually the bus filled up, the noise getting louder as it stopped at more locations. They were in the city now, skyscrapers popping up around them. Traffic slowed to a crawl, and when John finally turned round he realized that all the seats were taken, except the one next to him. Which was fine, he guessed, except it would probably be nice to have someone to laugh with, he mused. Or at least to bring some earphones. The chatter carried on, and no one paid attention to him. That was, until he turned his eyes to window again and was face to face with a very cool looking dude. John stared, just seeing the outline of eyes beneath the rounded shades, and it was with a shock he realized the boy was clinging on to the side of the bus. Well, fuck. John was still very surprised, and judging by the lull in the noise around him, he wasn’t the only one. The silence was broken as a very controlled shout rang through the window, along with a flash of pain from the stoic blonde’s face. John fumbled for the catch, and with a click it opened. In almost an instant it slammed shut again, and he found himself extremely close to the boy, whom everyone was staring at. The boy’s face did nothing, and the silence was broken when he offered a brief “Sup.” In the minutes that followed, people gradually lost interest in the boy. The bus driver hadn’t even noticed the escapade, and John found himself sitting next to an incredibly intimidating person. The boy, upon closer inspection had a dot of freckles about his face and some expensive looking headphones around his neck. He had an extremely rigid posture, and hair that seemed locked into place, not even ruffled by the recent happening.

With a blush, John realized the boy knew he was staring, and suddenly he was delved head first into a conversation he had no idea how to act in.  
“So, you got a name my knight in shining armour?” Asked the boy, his tone holding a hint of something behind the forced deadpan. Was it Southern? As John mused, he realized he hadn’t answered the question.  
“Um, yeah. I’m John, who are you?” He asked, his voice going up embarrassingly at the end. He blushed again, and looked away.  
“Dave Strider. Nice work there by the way Johnny boy, some extreme reactions you got there.” The boy, now Dave, said. John was about to thank him before he realized. Sarcasm. This was not going to be enjoyable.  
“Hehe, yeah, sorry about that. You kinda surprised me, pulling the whole Spiderman thing” John grinned, reaching up a hand to scratch the back of his neck.  
“And here I was trying to escape that image. The irony.” Said Dave, and John was about to inquire more when he was shushed.  
“I’m not sure if that’s actually iro-“  
“Shh. Of course it is. wanna know why? Shut up is why.” Dave said, face turning and eyebrows raising. John got the uncanny feeling this boy was staring into his brain, and once more a shade of red crept up his face. John was about to say something when a wad of paper smacked into the back of the boy’s head, making the people behind him erupt into fits of laughter. John was hoping Dave would leave it, but his secret suspicions were confirmed when the boy turned around.   
“You dropped something, numbnuts” Dave deadpanned, holding up the paper. He didn’t wait for a response before continuing, unrolling the blank paper.   
“Oh, your mums number. Well, if she looks anything like you I’m gonna have to pass. Sorry man.” He said, scrunching up the paper and tossing it behind him, before turning his head without waiting for a response. The people behind them once more burst into laughter, but this time it was directed at the beefy guy who had thrown the paper, who was looking extremely angry. Luckily, John was saved watching another encounter when the bus stopped, and people began to get off. He stood up quickly, taking his bag and looking to Dave.   
“You coming?” He asked, unaware of the overzealous grin he was supporting. Dave only raised an eyebrow before getting up slowly, hitching his backpack on his shoulder before nodding.  
“No need to sound so desperate John, we just met” He said, smirking as John blushed again, before deciding to abscond, turning and getting of the bus.

When he was outside, he spared himself a second to glance at the old buildings around him, watching the pouring masses that entered the doors. After some self-debate, he was about to leave before a firm hand clasped his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw Dave.  
“So anyway Johnny boy, think you can show me where 14B is? I’ve got maths first with Mr Parker, whoever he is” The boy said, and John grinned visibly as he understood. “Oh, you’re new! I hadn’t noticed. Sure, I’ve got him too” He said, voice saying something completely different to his objecting brain. Almost without his own control, he grinned again, and set off towards the building with Dave in tow.


End file.
